


Alternatives

by purajobot935



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Sex, One Night Stands, Regret, implied threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purajobot935/pseuds/purajobot935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Sideswipe wounded and out of action for a while, Sunstreaker turns to Jazz for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternatives

**Alternatives**

He stood by the prone, motionless form of his brother, optics glowing a dull blue as he took in all of the open wounds that that had yet to be patched over. He’d need another paint job once he was well enough to be on his feet again – whenever that would be. He’d played hero again today, saving Prime from the full brunt of the cluster bomb one of the Decepticons had flung, taking the impact on his own body. He couldn’t remember who had thrown it exactly, being more worried about the condition of his twin, but it didn’t matter. They’d pay for it at the next battle.

His optics rested on the other’s hip area where a whole panel had been removed, exposing a bundle of fused wires. The standing twin supposed it was a good thing he was used to seeing this type of thing on a frequent basis, or else he would have been sick by now.

With a sigh, he reached out and carefully touched the other’s helm with a surprisingly gentle hand – a hand that was also capable of ripping the limbs clean off another mech in a fight. The offline twin made no movement in response to his brother’s touch. 

It was going to be another lonely night for the one still online.

A white form drifted towards the brothers like a ghost, and laid a hand on the standing twin’s shoulder. The tall Lamborghini didn’t flinch, nor did he bother turning around to see who it was. He knew the other’s identity from touch alone – a touch that had brought him back from the brink time and time again; a touch that would now do the same for his brother. He could fix anything. He would fix the damaged twin and give him back to his other half.

“Get some rest son, there’s no point in you wearing yourself out.” The gruff medic’s voice was unusually soft. 

“Will he be alright?” the twin asked just as quietly, his usual gregarious voice subdued.

“I haven’t lost one of you yet, and I don’t intend to. Your brother will live to get himself slagged another day.”

“He was a hero today.”

“Yes he was, and now I need to fix our hero here, and I can’t do it with you standing here looking like a lost puppy.”

“How long?”

“A day, two at most, and I’ll be only too happy to kick him out after that. Go on now. If I wanted a statue in my med-bay, I’d have asked for one of Elton John.”

The Lamborghini didn’t smile, but his optics did lighten a bit. “Five minutes?”

“Three. Make it snappy.” The white medic moved away to attend to some things in another part of the med-bay.

The warrior looked down at his brother and gently stroked his head with the hand that had rested on it a few moments ago. “I’m proud of you bro,” he said softly to the unconscious form. Then he bent and brushed the silver forehead with a feather-light kiss.

“Time’s up,” the medic said, as the other mech straightened. If he had seen the rare, public gesture of affection, he said nothing.

“Thanks Ratchet.”

“Don’t mention it. Now go on and get some recharge.”

The warrior left the med-bay, trusting his twin to the medic, knowing he wouldn’t fail them. He didn’t go down to his quarters immediately however. Without his brother there, without the friendly banter they exchanged just before shutting down, the room felt far too quiet, too… barren for just him alone, and he didn’t like it. There was no way he would be able to sleep there by himself without a little assistance.

That in mind, he headed down to the lounge.

The Ark’s common room was dimly lit at this hour to save on energy, as most of the Autobots were either on patrol, on duty, or deep in recharge. So there was a notable lack of occupants in the lounge when the warrior entered; and with no one around to offer better judgment, the distraught twin helped himself to a few cans of the highest grade energon he could find, hoping to numb the worry by drinking himself offline.

………

A black-and-white form trudged into the lounge just after midnight and went straight over to the energon dispenser to help himself to a ration before he completely keeled over. He downed the first can in a few gulps and helped himself to one more. This one he sipped slowly as he turned around to face the lounge at large. He didn’t expect to see anyone inside at this hour, so he nearly choked when he saw the Lamborghini warrior slouched on one of the sofas.

“Hey Sunny, you a’ight?” he asked, putting his can down and going over to him. He saw the empty cans in front of the mech and knew instantly. “It’s either none or both o’ ya huh?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” the twin slurred. “Not right without him.”

“This ain't the first time he’s gotten slagged,” the other mech reminded him.

“No, but those times I was either slagged along with him, or there were others around to take my mind off it.” He tried to raise his head off the back-rest and failed.

“You need sleep more than company right now m’friend,” the saboteur said, sitting down beside him.

“Don’t like being alone in there without Siders.”

“Why? ‘fraid o’ the dark?”

The yellow mech snorted. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“ ‘Cept losin’ him huh?”

A nod. Sunstreaker tried again to raise his head off the couch, only to have it drop back down once more, this time onto Jazz’s shoulder.

“Man, y’really need ta hit the berth,” Jazz said. “What would Sideswipe think if he saw ya like this?”

“I don’t give a slag what he thinks.” The Lamborghini shifted so his head rested more comfortably on the other mech’s shoulder. He felt Jazz tense slightly. “What’s the matter?”

“Nuthin’. C’mon Sunny, lemme help ya back t’your room,” he replied.

Once the mech was standing – leaning partly on Jazz – they began to walk down to the residence level, the Porsche slightly on edge. He had his own arm around Sunstreaker’s waist in attempt to hold him up incase his legs gave way, while Sunstreaker’s arm was slung across his shoulders. Every now and then, the mech’s yellow fingers would brush his upper arm and send tingles flowing through his shoulder, and it was all Jazz could do to keep from shuddering.

He was grateful when they reached the Twins’ quarters and Sunstreaker opened the door to let them in. He considered leaving the mech at the door, to make it to his berth on his own, but he figured since he had come this far, he might as well help him a few more feet. As he helped Sunstreaker climb onto the lower of the two bunks, the yellow mech seized his arms and stopped him from rising.

“Jazz.” His blue optics glowed pleadingly in his handsome face. “Stay with me… please….”

“Sunny, I’m exhausted,” Jazz replied. “I fought a battle this evenin’ and just finished two shifts of patrol.”

“You can rest here,” the warrior said. “And so can I. We both win.”

Jazz considered this option. On the one hand, if he stayed with the twin, it would save him the walk back to his room. On the other hand, it wasn’t as if he could break the strong Lamborghini’s grip. He gave in. Carefully he eased himself onto the berth next to the warrior, trying to relax. Sunstreaker noticed his discomfort.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told Jazz.

“Maybe I should take the other bunk,” Jazz suggested.

“Maybe you should just shut up and stop worrying that I might kill you in your sleep,” the warrior murmured in his audio. “I’m not the homicidal maniac everyone thinks I am.”

“What makes ya think that?”

Sunstreaker nestled against his neck and shoulder, and sighed. “Don’t give me the shrink-talk. You know as well as I do that whenever they look at me, at some point they wonder if one day I’ll snap and kill everyone here.” He wrapped an arm around Jazz’s waist. “You’ve thought it too, at some point. Don’t deny it.”

This time Jazz sighed. “I don’t deny it, but I thought it a very long time ago, and I’ve changed my opinion since then. What I’m tryin’ ta understand is why you’re comin’ on ta me right now. Thought you were worried about yer brother?”

“I am, but everything’s in Ratchet’s hands. Can’t do anything about it, so I’m trying not to think about it.”

“So I’m your distraction?”

Sunstreaker hitched a shoulder in a shrug. “If you want to call yourself that…. I like you Jazz.”

“Now that has definitely gotta be the energon talkin’.”

“Frag me! I didn’t say I loved you, for Primus’ sake. I said I liked you. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna bond myself to you or any slag like that.”

“So now I’m basically your one-night stand.” A grin crept over the saboteur’s face.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Well, that makes me feel so much better…. You don’t think Sides’ll object ta you bein’ here with me while he’s off bein’ repaired?”

“He’s the one who suggested I find a distraction. He does it all the time. You don’t think him and Mirage are just friends do you?”

Jazz smirked wryly. “Somehow I didn’t think so.”

“Then why should he object when I’m just doing the same as him?”

“Y’got me there.” The uneasiness finally leaving him, Jazz relaxed enough to wrap an arm of his own around Sunstreaker.

“Though you don’t know how thankful I was to see walk through the door back there in the lounge,” the warrior said. “I’d’ve had a hard time of it if it’d been Ironhide or Hound or one of those slagging Minibots.” He snuggled closer to Jazz, optics starting to flicker.

Jazz turned to look at him. “So you’ve liked me for all of two hours?” He chuckled, gently stroking the other’s head and shifted so they were both more comfortable.

Sunstreaker made a sound of approval, bringing a hand up to trace the ‘4’ on the Porsche’s chest. “Stop twisting my words… and why the slag are you so happy about this being a one-night stand anyway?”

“I ain't got time for a relationship,” Jazz replied. “There’s far too much goin’ on these days for me to have the time ta make any sort of commitment ta someone. A fling’s convenient, a relationship’s just complicated. I can do without the additional stress.”

He glanced at Sunstreaker when he heard a soft grunt and found the mech finally asleep. Shaking his head, he smiled and held him close. A part of him thought about leaving, but he knew that would only break Sunstreaker’s trust in him, and trust was something very important to Jazz. Instead, he gently laid his head against the other mech’s and powered down, his visor growing dim as he finally drifted off to sleep as well.

……….

Sunstreaker woke up with a growl and a throbbing ache in his cranial chambers. There was also a queasy feeling in his storage banks. He groaned and slowly raised his head off the black-and-white’s shoulder, half-relieved to see that he was still there. He’d half-expected the Porsche to quietly slip away during the night. He didn’t realize he’d been staring at him till Jazz waved a hand in front of his face.

“What’s wrong man?” he asked.

Sunstreaker pressed a palm to his aching forehead. “Hangover. Bad one.”

Jazz hissed in sympathy. “I ain't surprised, given the amount you drank last night.”

“Should’ve stopped me.”

“Sorry man, you were already wasted by the time I got to ya,” Jazz said. “Anything I can do for ya?”

“Yeah, get me the slag outside… and make it fast.”

Jazz’d had a few hangovers of his own to know what Sunstreaker meant. Quickly he stood up and helped the yellow mech to his feet. Leaving the room, they headed down several barely used hallways till they finally made it out into the early morning sunlight. Sunstreaker immediately ducked behind a large boulder and brought up the half-processed contents of the previous night’s high-grade. Jazz stood with him, gently patting and stroking his back as he retched. After one final heave, he coughed, spat and then straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he looked at Jazz.

“You never saw that,” he said.

“Saw what?” Jazz replied, all innocence.

Sunstreaker smirked. “Smart mech.” He stepped closer to the Porsche, reaching up to caress his cheek. “About last night…”

Jazz almost purred. “A one-night stand-type thing, I understand man, its alright.”

“Its not slagging alright,” the warrior scuffed the ground with his foot, not breaking off his touch. “I didn’t want it to end like that. I wanted a little more.”

“Yeah? How did you want it to end man? The two of us sayin’ we loved each other?” Jazz asked, a little miffed. “I wasn’t good enough a distraction for ya?”

“I never said that,” Sunstreaker replied. “Stop twisting my fragging words Jazz. I admit I wasn’t exactly on my right slagging mind last night, ok?”

“Last night was a fling. Let it go Sunny, its over.”

“I want to make it up to you.” He took another step towards the saboteur.

Jazz stepped back, breaking the physical contact. “I don’t think ya quite understand the concept of a one-night stand. Forget it man, y’got more important things ta see to – your brother for one. He’s still in the med-bay remember?”

“I know slagging well where he is,” Sunstreaker snapped. He brushed past Jazz to head back inside. “This is why I don’t play nice Jazz, because when I try, I always get kicked in the aft for it.”

……….

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur. Jazz found himself in a meeting with the rest of the command element and by the time they were through, it was early afternoon. He headed down to the lounge to look for Sunstreaker, but the yellow warrior was not to be found.

“Probably gone to vent his frustrations out on something,” Brawn said when Jazz asked if he’d seen him.

“Or someone,” Huffer added. “You know what he’s like when Sideswipe’s not around. Probably off killing someone else right now ‘cause he cant kill us.”

“I hardly think ol’ Sunshine’s a murderer,” Jazz protested.

“Yet,” Huffer said. “Wait till Sideswipe bites the dust one day, we’ll all have a gun pressed to our heads.”

“Go leak your grease somewhere else Huffer,” Mirage said as he passed them. He looked at Jazz. “Sunstreaker’s in the med-bay checking up on Sideswipe. Did you want him for anything?”

“Nah, just need to discuss something with him. It can wait.” Jazz made a hasty retreat.

……….

Sunstreaker avoided him for the remainder of the evening, which only served to make Jazz feel worse about what he had said, and what the warrior had told him. Did he mean it, about being nice, or was it just a ploy to make Jazz feel bad as he presently did? Yet, under-handed tactics like that were more Sideswipe’s forte than his brother’s.

“Are you alright Jazz?” the voice belonged to Mirage.

“Huh? Oh, yeah I am, why?”

“You’ve been staring at that datapad for the last hour. I may be wrong, but you seem a bit distracted.”

Jazz’s optics narrowed behind his visor. “Meanin’ what?”

“You were with Sunstreaker last night weren’t you?”

“So what if I was man? Ain't no rule against bein’ with someone.”

“Didn’t go so well did it?”

“Not that its any of your concern, but no, it didn’t,” Jazz replied defensively. “And with all due respect…”

“I’m not trying to pry into your personal life Jazz,” Mirage said. “I may know something that might help.”

“And what might that be?”

The spy sighed. “Sunstreaker hates to fail. He prides himself on being the best at everything he does, so to have someone – especially someone close to him – call him a failure, or say he hasn’t done his best, it hurts him.”

“And you know this, how?”

“Sometimes Sideswipe just likes to talk. Sometimes he talks about his brother.”

Jazz tossed the datapad on the table and stood up, realizing just how little he knew about the Twins, especially the yellow one. “Thanks Raj. I think ya did help.” He headed to the door.

“He’s in his room,” Mirage called after him.

……….

Sunstreaker stood with his arm across the doorway, and a scowl on his face. “What?”

“Can I come in?” Jazz asked. “Unless you’d like the whole hall to hear what I have to say.”

Grunting, the warrior stepped back and allowed him to enter. Once the door was shut, Jazz turned to face him, but he had moved over to a desk and began to tidy it – mostly all Sideswipe’s stuff, he noted.

“So what?” Sunstreaker finally asked, not looking up.

“About last night,” Jazz said.

“Thought you told me to let it go.”

“I didn’t know it meant somethin’ to you.”

Sunstreaker looked up. “I’m not some sentimental turbo-pup Jazz, so don’t, for one second, think that I give a frag about last night.”

“I know you wanted it to go better than it did, and I didn’t give you the chance.”

The warrior turned to face him and crossed his arms over his chest, but didn’t say anything so Jazz deemed it safe to continue.

“I just wanna say I’m sorry I made ya feel like you failed. It wasn’t failure – you were overcharged, I was exhausted – just bad timin’ a’ight?”

As Jazz spoke, Sunstreaker strode up to him with firm, decided steps, and the Porsche wondered for a moment if he’d angered the big Lamborghini, and should maybe move to the door incase he needed to make a hasty escape. Then he mentally chided himself for thinking like some of the Minibots had that afternoon.

“Sunny, I came ta make it up. I don’t want you to- mmph!”

It was at this point that Sunstreaker reached Jazz, held him firmly by the arms, and pressed his mouth to his in a fierce kiss. Jazz tensed, then relaxed enough as he got over his initial shock, to note that Sunstreaker was a firm and decided kisser who did not hesitate to let the other know exactly what he wanted.

Right now, he wanted submission, and Jazz would be slagged if he was going to let the warrior have his way completely. Sunstreaker held him by the upper arms, which left Jazz’s hands free, and these he placed on Sunstreaker’s hips and gently pushed him back towards the recharge berth, still maintaining lip-contact. The warrior faltered as his legs touched the edge of the berth. As Jazz leaned into him to push him down, Sunstreaker locked his arms around the saboteur’s waist and pulled him down with him. The two collapsed onto the berth together.

……….

A few slow, smooth, sensuous hours later, the two lay content in the bunk, Sunstreaker with his arms wrapped around Jazz, as the black-and-white leaned against his broad chestplate. Internal regulators worked hard to cool what had been an intense round of passion, with both mechs exerting a certain amount of dominance. Sunstreaker was impressed – Jazz was a lot tougher than he looked. Jazz himself was surprised to note that not once did Sunstreaker complain about the state of his body-work, even when he’d acquired a few accidental paint-chips, and he mentioned so later on.

“I’ll make you wax them off for me later,” Sunstreaker said slyly, his fingers playing with one of the ‘horns’ on Jazz’s helm.

“Got yerself a deal, Sunshine,” Jazz replied, running his hand along the outside of Sunstreaker’s thigh.

The warrior just about purred in contentment and leaned forward to place a kiss on the side of Jazz’s neck. They laid in silence for a while – Sunstreaker nuzzling the saboteur now and then – before Jazz broke the silence with a question that had been bothering him for a while now.

“Does it hurt?”

“The slag are you talking about?” Sunstreaker paused what he was doing.

“The fact that most of the others think you’re a psychopathic murderer,” Jazz replied, looking at him. “Does it hurt?” He gently traced the Autobot symbol on the Lamborghini’s chest.

The warrior sighed. “All the time,” he murmured in Jazz’s audio.

“Then why not put a stop to it once and for all?”

“I am who I was made to be, I can’t change that,” Sunstreaker replied. “I was created to be a cold, ruthless warrior with no regard for anyone – someone a leader could fling into the frontlines without a second thought, someone who could change the course of a battle between soldiers and civilians…. Sideswipe is the same.”

“But no one’s calling Sides a murderer,” Jazz pointed out.

Sunstreaker ran a finger along the edge of Jazz’s face. “We were created for the same purpose, doesn’t mean we had to BE the same. We’d just be clones then, not brothers.” He traced the contours of the Porsche’s visor. “And we all need something to hide behind.”

It occurred to Jazz that this was the most Sunstreaker had said to him since… well, since he’d known him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

The warrior snorted. “Please, save your pity for someone who needs it. If I can’t handle a few ugly comments thrown my way, then I have no business being a frontline warrior. I am who I am; if I changed, I wouldn’t be Sunstreaker anymore.”

“I could talk…” Jazz began.

Sunstreaker placed a finger over his mouth and silenced him. “Let it go. They need to be kept on their toes and learn not to get too comfortable. They need to decide for themselves.”

Jazz sighed. “If you say so.”

The warrior gently stroked his head, before leaning over to place a light kiss on his mouth. “I do. Now get some sleep. You’ve got more patrol tomorrow night.”

The saboteur groaned. “Don’t remind me. Wanna trade?”

Sunstreaker snorted. “Gotta be slaggin’ kidding me. I don’t like you THAT much.”

……….

Sideswipe switched on his optics and looked straight into the overhead lights of the med-bay. He winced and brought a hand up to shield them as he squinted, trying to look around. His body responded with the slight, dull ache that signified recent repairs. A quick check with his chronometer told him it was a little past 6 in the morning, and he’d been out for two days.

“How’re you feelin’ kid?” the voice was not Ratchet’s but Wheeljack’s. “Anything out of alignment?”

Sideswipe ran an internal diagnostic. “Everything seems ok. Where’s Ratchet?”

“Finally getting some rest,” Wheeljack replied, inclining his head back slightly to indicate the medic asleep on a bunk in a corner. “Try not to wake him up on your way out alright? It took me a while to get him to shut down.”

“Wait a second, I can go? Just like that? No thwap on the head or threats to turn me into a toaster the next time I’m not careful?” Sideswipe asked.

Wheeljack chuckled, fins blinking bright blue. “I think you have me confused with a certain medic. Go on kid, get some proper sleep.”

Sideswipe didn’t need to be told again. Carefully, he eased off the repair table, with a little help from the engineer, and headed down to his room. After keying in his pass-code, he stepped inside, not even stopping to consider what lay before him. Instead, he simply climbed into the bunk between Jazz and the edge, and snuggled close to the black-and-white. Sunstreaker reached across and placed his hand on his brother’s elbow.

“Told ya it’d work,” Sideswipe said softly.

“Yeah, you were right for once,” Sunstreaker said.

Sideswipe placed his hand on Sunstreaker’s arm. “So how was it?”

“It was good. He fights back – I like that.”

“Nice, share him with me some time.”

“I’m awake, and I can hear you,” Jazz said with a small smile, quite aware of Sideswipe’s fingers gently stroking the back of his head. “And I ain't nobody’s mech-whore.”

“Just ours,” Sideswipe retorted slyly.

“Y’wish man.”

“I don’t have to, you’re right here.”

“Let’s not forget that I had him first,” Sunstreaker said, nuzzling Jazz. “So technically, he’s mine.”

Jazz sighed and gave up. There wasn’t much he could do when he was sandwiched in between the two Lamborghinis anyway, so there was really no point in trying.

“Shouldn’t you be with Mirage, Siders?” he asked instead.

“Yeah I should,” Sideswipe replied. “But I need an alternative right now.”

 

~END.

**Author's Note:**

> Written early 2006. I'm a hardcore PJ shipping, but that being said, I do like writing them with other characters now and then. Jazz/Sunstreaker intrigues me for some reason. I pretty much also ship Mirage/anyone BUT Hound, and Lambo Twins/anyone BUT Bluestreak. Oftentimes I favor Mirage/Twins or Mirage/Sideswipe.


End file.
